Chapter Nineteen

 

“Captain Wentworth, Miss Elliot has arrived. And she has a guest. A man by the same name,” Mrs. Humboldt interrupted us as I was about respond to the proposal.

She held the library door open, expectantly.

“Of course. Excuse me.” He bowed and hurried from the room.

I slumped back in the chair, the wind sucked from my sails.

I wanted so badly to say yes but I wanted that moment to last forever.

I left the library after a minute of pouting, and sauntered to the front door. As I expected, Anne was early. As predicted, she couldn't stay away.

When I got to the door Mary was gushing over some man, a very handsome man. He had dark hair and was as tall as Wentworth and Charles, both tall men.

“And this is our cousin, who you must know quite well, Miss Jane Dalrymple.” Mary held a hand out to me.

I made eye contact with the man, of course knowing him exceedingly well. I recalled him and all our shared memories that had been written into the storyline as I blinked once. “Cousin William. How are you?” William Elliot, our dreaded cousin, who had always been a social-climbing and money-grubbing letch, was with Anne?

What a turn of events.

Clearly, the unfortunate Mrs. Smith hadn’t had time to warn Anne.

“Jane, what a pleasant surprise!” William exclaimed and pulled me in for an embrace. We knew each other well. Quite well. I patted his back and pulled away, earning myself a rather scandalous stare from Wentworth and Anne.

“Cousin Anne, I am so pleased you have returned.” I embraced her also. “I was sad to hear of your friend’s passing. I am so sorry.”

“Thank you. She was a dear friend.” Her eyes darted to William. “To us both. William was a friend to her late husband.”

In my head I recalled the friendship. William had not done his part with the husband’s will and Mrs. Smith ended up destitute as a result. I wondered what lies he had told to account for actions toward the poor widow. Or lack of action.

“You must be tired. The ride is quite long.” I laughed. “I’m afraid we will never leave poor Captain Wentworth again for fear of the carriage ride.”

Everyone laughed.

Everyone but Wentworth. His eyes burned the way my heart did.

I stepped back once more, allowing for other conversations to spark up about the carriage ride, and edged over to stand next to Wentworth. I let the back of my hand brush against his, trying to tell him I was his. I wondered if it was me trembling or him.

Everyone made their way into the dining room, apart from Anne who went to freshen up. And Mary who went with her.

“It’s a very nice property, Wentworth. I wasn’t unaware this was in your family.” William said it like he meant no harm, but I knew he did. He had all the Elliot countenance.

“My uncle was the one who inherited. He was older than my father. But then he had no heir, so it came to my brother and then me.”

“Quite recently?”

“Yes.” Wentworth was polite, the very essence of a gentleman. Unless we were alone, then he was much more like a caged animal. “Similar situation for you and Kellynch Hall, is it not?”

“Indeed it is. I am set to inherit. Poor Sir Walter, losing his only son as a small child.”

“Was there a son?” Henrietta asked, clearly following along in the conversation.

“Did you not know?” William feigned care.

“How sad. He lost his heir and his wife,” Louisa remarked, also paying close attention.

My eyes lingered on Wentworth’s, hoping he would signal for me to leave the room and meet him in the hall, and he would again tell me how much he loved me.

But he didn't even meet my gaze.

In fact, when Anne and Mary made their way back into the room, his eyes widened with delight, as did everyone else’s.

“Thank you for hosting us all, Captain.” Anne smiled softly, offering a sweet sigh. “It’s a lovely home.”

“Thank you, Miss Elliot. I take it you had an uneventful trip?”

“Yes, very quick trip over. Bath was—”

“Bath.” He chuckled, mocking the city with her in their private joke. “You hate Bath.”

“I hate Bath,” she agreed. “It was busy and damp and my father insisted on visiting with everyone, but at our lodgings. There was no peace.”

“And poor Mrs. Smith.” Louisa put a hand on Anne’s.

“Yes. That was a terrible shock. She’d had a bit of a cold, but it changed, and within a few days she was gone. Her nurse did say she had a weakened immunity of late. Catching every cold that was to be caught.”

“I warned dear Anne, she shouldn't be visiting and risking herself.” William sat next to Anne, placing his hand on the back of her chair. It was a possessive and comfortable pose.

I wanted to roll my eyes but I didn't. I sat stone-faced and watched as they interacted, laughing and eating and drinking.

After dinner, Anne played the piano and they danced. I excused myself, confused by Wentworth’s sudden coldness toward me. It wasn't a mystery, Anne had arrived. His first love. But as his latest love, my feelings were injured by the slight.

I walked to my bedroom and slid the fireplace back, taking a candle and creeping into the secret passageway.

I sat on the stairs and listened to the sounds of music and laughter.

Nothing about the day had turned out the way I’d hoped.

I wondered where the real Jonathan was, not hoping he would come to visit me, but what his life looked like now, what heaven was like.

What my heart looked like up there, tucked away with his.

The heart in my chest, the one being abused by Wentworth, wasn't my whole heart. Pieces of it had broken off and were safely tucked away in heaven with the first man I ever loved.

I told myself the pain in my chest would end. I would get over it. It wasn't whole heart pain. I couldn't possibly really love Wentworth anyway. He wasn’t real and I wasn’t really here, and as many times as I told myself it was real, it wasn't.

I got up and continued below, taking the tunnels down to the main floor.

“Jane!” Wentworth called after me from above. I turned to see him storming toward me. He appeared to be angry with me. “I looked everywhere for you.”

“I didn't think anyone would notice that I’d left.” I wasn't trying to start a fight, but I also wasn't about to pretend things hadn’t become peculiar since Anne arrived.

“I noticed. I simply assumed you would be making your way back to us. It’s been over an hour since you left.”

“I wasn't in the mood to be jovial. Forgive me, my lord.” I curtseyed and turned to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, knocking the candle from my hand.

It blew out on its way down, leaving us in the dim light filtering through the open doors. It was just enough light to see his face, his eyes.

He pulled me to him, roughly, and then softened his grip as his arms swept me up into them. He gazed down on me, cupping my face. “I never received my answer, Jane. I’ve waited all night, impatiently for it.”

“You seemed fine without it.”

“Answer me,” he demanded, maybe annoyed by my being purposefully reserved.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He scowled.

“If that is still your wish, then yes. My answer is yes.” I hated that this was my response.

“If that’s still my wish?” He sounded aghast. “I’ve been upstairs, entertaining more than half your bloody family, being the perfect host to that scoundrel you call a cous—”

“To a woman, you loved. You have been playing host to a woman you loved.”

“’Loved’ being the operative word, Jane. Loved. I haven’t loved Anne in a long time.”

“You light up when she walks in the room. I saw you.”

“No, you saw me pretending to be happy. You saw me acting like a gentleman ought to when someone he can’t stand is in his house, but he isn’t permitted to be authentic. I can’t stand to be around that man. Watching him put his hands all over you and Anne and even Mary, ridiculous Mary, makes me imagine doing all sorts of vile things. Acts gentlemen don’t admit to once committed.” He exhaled loudly as if defeated. “I love you and I want to marry you. You and you alone.”

“Then I accept. I want to marry you, Wentworth. I want to be yours.”

“You are, you’re entirely mine.” He lowers his face, brushing his lips against my cheek, whispering to me in the dark and creepy secret passageway. “I must confess, I am having thoughts not to be entertained.” He placed a second kiss on my cheek, lingering too long and breathing hot breath on my ear and nape.

“You did mention you didn’t want to be parted from me,” I offered softly, having trouble keeping my own breath in check. “Does that include at night, when we must be separated?”

“Jane.” He said my name as if declaring all the indelicate desire burning inside him with one word.

“Frederick.” I said his, hoping I conveyed even half the lust.

Our eyes met when I pulled back, his seeking permission to do things nice men didn’t do until they were married. I prayed my stare offered the consent he was requesting as butterflies had a ball in my stomach.

Seeing the assent he wanted, he lost the delicacy and sweetness. He unleashed a fervor sweeping me into his chest, lifting me off the ground and turning for the brick wall leading to his bedroom.

When we got to the bricks he placed me down. I glanced back at him as I entered the tiny space, sliding through.

The tension of what was about to happen pricked at me. His gaze, stuck on mine, sucked me in and made me wonder what exactly he was thinking about. He appeared crazed and possibly angry, but he wasn’t.

When I got into his room I stood by the fire and listened as he scuffed his way through the bricks. The crackling wood tried to be louder than my rapidly beating half of a heart.

I gasped as he came into the room, stepping close to me again, becoming the delicate thing he thought I was. He reached for me, running his fingertips down my cheek, creating more heat than the fire shimmering off our faces.

I saw everything in his eyes. He made love to me with just a stare, far before he even took his next step closer. His fingers brushing my cheeks, cupping my face and tilting it to his, made me feel like I was a precious thing, a fragile creature.

I’d never been a sexual person.

I’d never been in that sort of relationship.

Jonathan and I were friends long before we were ever anything else.

But in Wentworth’s eyes, I saw the promise of what was to come and I braced myself.

“Captain . . .” I whispered as he lowered his face to mine, gracefully placing a kiss on my cheek.

“Are you certain?” he asked breathily.

“Yes, Captain.” Something about calling him that made my head spin even more than the dimly lit room.

“I love you, Jane,” he whispered again, kissing the other side of my face with the same passivity.

I waited with baited breath as his fingers danced down and then up my arms, tickling almost. His lips pressed in, slightly firmer as he kissed my cheek closer to the ear. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

He kissed lower on my neck as his hands made their way to the back of my dress, pulling at the tie. The force of the knot coming loose and bagging my dress around my slim body made me gasp again.

My eyes shot open as I bit my lip, noticing he’d stepped back. A grin crossed his lips as he tugged my dress down my arms and past my breasts to the floor. It pooled around me. I shivered as the heat of the fire licked at my left side as he reached for my stays, both his hands touching the top of my chest, brushing against my flesh where it swelled out the top, as he carefully untied it.

His fingers reached between my breasts, slowly and moving with intention, tugging at each lace, loosening the stays until it could be glided off.

I stood in my sheer petticoat, naked beneath it.

His eyes traveled me as I slid my arm through one armhole and then the other, letting the petticoat drop to the floor with the dress.

His gaze widened as his breath hitched. “You’re beautiful.” He lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his knuckles up my stomach, making me flinch when he made contact. He dragged, digging into my skin with his, ensuring I felt every bit of him against me.

Once his hand neared my breasts, he lifted the other, and cupped, lifting my breasts into his palms. He touched so gently I didn’t know how to respond as he weighed each breast, massaging carefully.

When his fingers massaged their way to my nipples, I inhaled sharply.

This was the official point of no return.

I lifted my hands, hurrying to take his uniform off, stripping him of his jacket and shirt and even undoing his pants. We paused, me naked and him partway there, both trembling and unsure of who would make the next move.

It was him.

He lifted me in the air, carrying me to his bed, and laying me down so gently but with such desperation. He kissed my stomach as he dragged off the rest of his clothes until he too was completely naked.

I glanced up, curious as to what sort of man the captain was.

He was much larger than Jonathan in build and everywhere else. His body was smooth and lean, perfect really.

I slid up the bed as he climbed atop it, hovering over me. My mind wandered over things like foreplay and protection and everything else I imagined would be a modern idea of sex.

Our eyes met and all the thoughts and questions faded. I reached up, cupping his face in my hands and pulling him down to me, to lie beside me. The warmth of our bodies made me shiver as I forced him on his back, kissing him with passion. My tongue brushed his lips as I led him into a much more desperate kiss. As his tongue entered my mouth, he pressed me into him and rolled me onto my back, sliding his hands up my torso to my breasts, cupping and massaging.

His lips traveled, leaving mine and adventuring along my neck and chest, joining his hand in caressing my breast. When his warm mouth landed on a nipple I inhaled sharply, tensing and remembering the feeling of a man touching me.

He suckled and flicked, rubbed and teased, until my entire body felt like it might explode. Then, with his cock bobbing between us, he hovered over me again, spreading my legs wide and pushing himself inside me.

It was all too much for a moment, too filling, too heavy, too satisfying.

I clawed at him, grabbing his muscled arms, feeling them tense as he pulled back and pushed into me again, making moaning breaths burst from me.

He bent his head down, kissing me violently as he continued to slide in and out of me, pushing me too far.

My fingers dug into his arms and back as we joined, coupled with each other. Every long rhythmic stroke of him built more and more pressure in my body as our breath turned ragged and our need for pleasure drove us to move in and out of one another in grinding and rotating bliss.

I clung to him, desperately lost in the waves of pleasure that rocked me, me being the ship and he the captain.

When the pleasure climaxed, my body took over, tilting slightly as I reached around, grabbing his ass and pulling him into me, forcing a speed I needed.

I orgasmed violently, clinging to every inch of him.

He cried out, exploding inside me, groaning and gripping me, pinning me to him and him to me, pressing me into the mattress and yet lifting at the same time.

The violence of our affections cooled as we collapsed, both struggling to breathe and find space without leaving the sanctity of the moment.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, not even sure that was the right word.

“Indeed, my lady. Indeed.” He pressed a sweaty kiss against my neck and groaned again.

My brain made an attempt at firing a thousand questions off but my heart swelled, pushing them back.

There was no need to think, everything about this was perfect.